The Calling Of Your Hearts
by Im-Lydia-N
Summary: A Shug Nesmith fic-of-fic for Smittygirl, who created the little minx. It's Shug and Peter's wedding day, through the eyes of her loving but distraught brother. Both "The Wedding Song" by Paul Stookey and "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose" (traditional, words by Robert Burns) are in the public domain.


The Calling of Your Hearts

A Shug Nesmith fic-of-fic for Smittygirl

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, Mike always managed to dislodge part of his sleep mask during the night. He grimaced at the first prick of morning sunlight that attacked his eyes, then rolled over onto his side and pulled the covers over his head. "Not gettin' up yet," he mumbled thickly, just as the alarm clock jangled. "No!" he bellowed, reaching out to silence the offending bells. He succeeded only in shoving the clock behind the nightstand, where it continued to ring shrilly until Mike heard a loud thump and the crack of wood against metal.

Mike lifted the mask from his bleary eyes and looked at Micky, who stood over the nightstand with a broom and continued poking the remains of the alarm clock. "I think I killed it."

"It better stay dead." Mike yawned as he plumped up his pillow and prepared to fall back asleep. Something kept him from closing his eyes. Something was happening today, or else why had he set the alarm so danged early? What was—

Oh.

As if reading Mike's thoughts, Micky plopped down at the foot of Mike's bed and grinned at him. "So today's the big day."

Shug and Peter. They were getting married in just a few hours.

Mike sat up against the headboard and drew his knees up to his chest. He listened for his sister's voice even though he knew she'd spent the night with April. There was a low mumbling from the bedroom above, where Peter had bunked with Davy for the night. "What's going on?" Mike asked.

Micky ducked his head and began air-drumming just above the bedspread. "Uh, how about breakfast? I think we actually own some eggs or toast or egg toast or something…"

"Micky."

The fidgeting stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Micky blew an errant lock of hair out of his face and peered over at Mike. "They're having a little talk."

"Oh." It made sense that they'd want to hang out together for a bit this morning, and Davy's calmness would really help Peter be less jumpy. Mike inspected his fingernails for a moment, then glanced back up at Micky, who was gazing at him expectantly. "Do WE need to have a little talk?"

"I sure hope not!" Micky leapt off the bed. "Listen, I wanna check my equipment before we play this afternoon, so I'll just leave you to—"

"Just a minute, Mick. Exactly what kind of 'little talk' are they having up there?"

Micky blushed. Micky. Blushed.

Real dawn having awoken him physically, metaphorical dawn was breaking in his mind. Before Micky could say anything, Mike jumped out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe. His hands shook with rage as he tied his belt into a vicious knot. "They're having the sex talk. The REAL one. The 'touch this and that happens' one. About my SISTER."

Micky twisted the neck of his sweatshirt and shivered. "Well, it was either Davy or me, and he's a lot more…knowledgeable…"

"I'm gonna kill him," Mike growled. He didn't bother to cover his hair with his cap or put on the beloved fuzzy slippers Shug had given him for his—their—birthday. He was going into full Protective Brother Mode and heaven help anyone who stood in his way. With Micky trailing behind, mumbling something about glass houses, Mike stormed up the spiral staircase and barged into the bedroom.

Evidently, they had gotten into some detail. Peter's face was chalk-white and his eyes were enormous. Davy looked as if he'd rather be at the dentist without anesthesia, and when he saw Mike's thunderous face he actually gulped and put his hands in front of his face.

"You are having The Talk right now, with Peter?" Mike spat out between clenched teeth. Davy nodded as he peeped out from between his fingers, his dark eyes wide with very real fear. "Let me get this absolutely straight. You are giving Peter, here, instructions on HOW TO DEFLOWER MY BABY SISTER?"

"Deflower?" Micky sputtered.

"SHUT UP!" Mike turned long enough to wave a warning finger at Micky, then refocused his attention on Davy. "You ougtha be ashamed of yourself!"

"No!" It was Peter's voice, unusually stern, that rose in protest. "You don't understand at all, so you need to listen to me." He took a deep breath and placed himself between Mike and Davy. Normally, Peter in his orange footie pajamas would not be an imposing sight, but today he had a new gravitas that none of the others had ever seen in him. "I came to Davy for advice because, well, you know that Shug's not the only one who's facing a 'deflowering' tonight."

Mike winced. He'd have killed, absolutely KILLED, to have had some idea what he was doing when he was sixteen in Texas with Cousin Lucy's friend Ramona in the hayloft…

"Pete, hey, I'm—"

"I know I'm the dummy, and I'm clumsy and I don't do the right thing most of the time, but just this once, just this ONCE, I want to do something well." He took a deep breath and stared at Mike before he continued. "And it's not as if I could ask YOU."

Davy and Micky glanced at one another, eyebrows raised.

"You used to," Mike whispered, his heart shattering as his anger turned inward. "You used to ask me everything under the sun." He felt his knees turn to water as he sank heavily onto the bed. He'd called Peter the "How and Why Boy" when they first met, when everything about being living away from home and being in a band was new. In the months since Shug had come into their lives as a separate entity, however, Peter had withdrawn more and more, leaning on Micky and Davy but giving Mike a wide berth.

"I don't want you to have a dummy for a brother," Peter said. "So I've been asking Micky for advice about having an apartment that doesn't fall apart, and I wanted to ask Davy how to…do things that…"

"Stop," Mike implored, placing his hands over his ears.

Peter yanked one hand away and forced Mike to meet his gaze. "It's not about 'deflowering' or being some kind of stud. I just want to give her…you know…pleasure. I want her to be happy, Mike, and there's nothing wrong with that so I'm not going to apologize, and Davy isn't, either!"

The silence that followed Peter's outburst was deafening. He stood with his hands on his hips, deep brown eyes blazing at Mike in utter defiance.

"It ain't you should apologize." Mike stood up and wrapped his arms around Peter, bunny pajamas and all. "I'm just a nervous wreck and I took it out on you. And Davy. I'm sorry, guys."

"That's okay," Davy said as he rose and patted Mike on the back. "I could've taken you, anyway."

Everyone chuckled. Micky's stomach chimed in with a deep rumble. "Breakfast! And we have to get everything cleaned up before Millie gets here. If the place isn't perfect by ten o'clock, she's likely to put us in frilly aprons!"

Mike caught Davy's arm and pulled him back into the room while Micky and Peter raced out in search of cereal. "Listen, Davy, I gotta know something."

"You don't have to apologize again, Mike. I understand, really I do."

"No, it's not that. Just…how did it go?"

He couldn't believe that he was seeing Davy Jones' cheeks turn red with embarrassment. "Well, it's not the simplest conversation I've ever had, but I think he's good to fly solo. He'd do anything for her, y'know. He really, really loves her."

"Yeah, I know." Mike ran his hands through his tangled hair. "And she loves him just as much."

"So, what's the hang-up?" Davy inquired.

"I really wish I knew," sighed Mike. "It'd make today a lot easier on my nerves."

Davy settled down on the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. His face was unusually serious. "I'm gonna ask you something, Mike, and if it's none of my beeswax then you just tell me, okay?"

Curious, Mike seated himself and nodded in silence, watching Davy's forehead furrow in concern.

"I'm kind of wondering – could it be that you're jealous?"

Jealous?

"Of PETER?" Mike squeaked. "Man, did you ever get this wrong! Shug's not just my sister, she's ME—"

"Not jealous of Peter, no." Davy checked his manicure for a moment, then cast a sidelong glance at Mike. "Could you be jealous of Shug?"

Was Davy joking?

"Not that it'd be a bad thing if you'd loved Peter 'that way,' man, it's all cool," Davy continued, but Mike cut him off.

"I love the guy like a brother – which turns out to be a helpful thing – but not as anything else. But thanks for the vote of confidence even if it had been the case." Mike's heart, which had begun drumming madly when Davy made his completely inaccurate guess, settled down to a normal rhythm. "But you're making me think. Maybe what's gotten into me isn't jealousy, as such, but rather being envious that they have each other to love." He twisted the belt of his bathrobe, registering Davy's concerned glance out of the corner of his eye. "I'm real glad that they do have each other. It's just that, well, since I was Shug and then she came along by herself, it means so much more to me to BE loved than I'd ever thought possible. Does that make any sense?"

Davy nodded, stilling Mike's big paws with a gentle pat. "I hear you, Mike. I just see you looking so…well, not sad but almost empty. Hungry. And it hurts me."

"Awww, buddy." Mike wrapped Davy up in a loose hug and breathed in the scent of brilliantine and aftershave that always sweetened the air around him, along with a scent he recognized as something else altogether: food. "You're right about one thing. I AM hungry. Starving. And if I'm not hallucinating, that's bacon frying downstairs!"

Davy sniffed. His eyes lit up. He rose, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Before he had a chance to say anything, the door flew open and Micky entered, a piece of French toast hanging out of his mouth. "Mffle md bfss," he mumbled.

"Well, that clears everything up," Mike chuckled as he took the bread out of Micky's mouth and bopped him on the nose with it. "Wanna say it with vowels this time?"

"Millie made breakfast!" Micky snatched his treat back. "And Peter's hungry as a horse, so you guys better make tracks if you want any!"

Grinning, Davy stood aside so Mike could leave first. "Eat up, Mike. It's gonna be a long day."

As predicted, Millie had turned up in the kitchen hours before she was expected. Grocery sacks lined the counter, and their dining table held a breakfast feast the likes of which they hadn't seen since Millie's last visit.

"Scones!" Davy exclaimed. "And real clotted cream! Millie, you're the greatest!" He hugged her before sitting down next to Peter and reaching for his favorite treats.

Mike sidled up to Millie and kissed her cheek. There were a few more lines there than when he'd seen her last, but the kindness in her sparkling eyes showed that she was still young at heart. "We weren't expecting you until at least noon – wedding's at two!"

Millie returned the kiss, then wiped the lipstick off of Mike's face with a corner of her spotless blue apron. "I know how my boys are; I know you'd be too busy to think to feed the groom properly on his big day. So I'm a bit early. Sit, sit, I've got fried eggs and hash browns in the pan." She shooed Mike into a chair, then turned to the stove. Micky was about to pick some potatoes out with a fork until Millie gave his wrist a tiny slap. "You sit, too. You'll get your turn."

Laughing, Micky took a seat next to Mike. His grin faded when he looked around at each of his friends. "Guys, this is the last time we'll do this. I mean, just the four of us."

"Big change from our first breakfast," Davy commented wryly. Their first breakfast had been one little box of cereal to divide among the four of them, and the milk had soured in the fridge overnight because they had forgotten to pay the deposit to the electric company.

"I promise to come over and eat," Peter declared.

"Yeah, well, as long as you only eat and don't cook," smirked Micky. "Ow!" he added when Millie came over to him and gave his wrist another slap.

"Don't talk rudely to your friend. I know Peter wouldn't ever cook anything bad on purpose." She patted Peter's head and he smiled as he leaned against her. "I didn't get to know you well on my first visit, Peter, but I know you've got a good heart. I'm glad you found the right girl. I know a thing or two about chemistry."

Micky choked on his eggs and Mike had to pat him on the back until he settled down. "Not that kind of chemistry, babe," Mike soothed.

"Hey, Millie, where's Larry? Isn't he coming?" asked Davy.

"He'll be here. He's taking the car to be washed and cleaned up, then he's coming to pick up Peter and keep him occupied until the wedding's about to start. I can't believe you were going to let him stay here, when he'd certainly have seen Sugar before the ceremony!"

"It was either that," Mike explained, "or send him to Mr. Babbitt's. And Babbitt's so mad that we didn't throw a 'real' bachelor party for Peter that I'm afraid he'd try to do something himself."

Everyone laughed. Moments later the group fell silent as Millie brought even more food to the table. Mike watched his friends eating but he felt as if he had a lead ball in his stomach. Just a few hours, and Shug would be marrying Peter. Their lives as a band would change. To be sure, the apartment Peter and Shug would occupy was an easy walk from the Pad, but not having them around would be extremely weird.

As if on cue, Millie's husband opened the front door and poked his head inside. "Something smells good!" he pronounced as Millie came over to kiss him, waving her spatula aloft. "Hello, cupcake!"

"Come on in and grab a plate, Larry, there's plenty!" called Micky.

"I will, fellas. Let me get Peter and Shug's bags to the car," he said, indicating Peter's battered suitcase and the bright red one April had loaned Shug for the occasion, "then I'll be right back to join you. Peter, you about ready?"

Peter's eyes were shining with excitement. "You bet, Larry. Thanks for doing this." When he rose and picked up his plate to take it to the sink, his hands trembled just a bit. Millie dashed over and intercepted him before any breakage could happen. "Sorry," Peter mumbled. "I guess I'm a little anxious."

"You're the groom," Larry snorted as he took Peter's place and helped himself to a biscuit. "All you gotta do is show up and not drop anything."

"That's kind of hard for me," Peter acknowledged with a rueful grin. When he turned back to the table his hands were clenched nervously in front of himself. "Well, guys…when I get back I'll be headed straight to the ceremony…so…"

Mike could hear Davy swallow hard.

"Okay, Shotgun," Mike said, surprised at the catch in his own voice. "I won't let Shug out of the car until the patio door's open. That way I know you're already outside." Peter ran over and hugged him from behind. Mike rested his head against Peter's for a moment, hoping that Peter would understand that Mike just couldn't trust himself to say anything deeper at this moment.

"We've got everything under control," Davy put in when it was his turn for a hug. His bright smile didn't quite make it all the way up to his expressive eyes, which were blinking suspiciously fast.

Mike looked at Micky, who sat immobile with his eyes lowered. It didn't take a mind-reader or a genius to know what was going through the curly head. He had inadvertently brought Shug into being and had never quite forgiven himself for meddling – yet here was the beautiful result. As if he understood, Peter knelt by Micky's chair and peered into the shyly veiled eyes. "Thank you, man," was all Peter said, but it was enough to put color back into Micky's face. The two men looked at one another in silence, then Peter nodded, rose, and clapped Larry on the back.

"I guess that's my signal," Larry mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I'll be at the hotel with Pete. Got a few nice touches to put around the room. And yes, Millie, I'll make sure he's all neat and clean before he gets dressed." He gave his wife a pat on the head, then winked at the other boys before gathering Peter in a one-armed hug. "I won't get him VERY drunk."

"Larry! You wouldn't dare!"

"Just kiddin' ya, sweetheart. I'll have him back at one-thirty."

Mike and the others watched Peter being led out of the only home he'd known for the last three years. Mike had never lived in one place for more than a few months during his hardscrabble childhood so he was quite house-proud of the Pad despite its many defects. Charms, Davy would call them sarcastically, while Micky would roll his eyes at how many things he'd had to jury-rig just to keep them functional. But it was their home, no matter its shortcomings, and Peter's absence would be keenly felt.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't hear the others calling his name. Finally, Davy shook his arm and chuckled at him. "Mike, man, we've been asking you for ten minutes…what's the plan with Shug and April?"

"Oh!" Mike shook himself out of his reverie. "Well, April's gonna bring her over at a quarter to two. April's also gonna make sure Micky does everything he's supposed to." Mike gave his roommate a baleful look; at the rehearsal Micky had tripped twice, forgotten the "pretend" rings, and stepped on April's heel. "She'll leave the door open once she sees that Peter's in place, and that's when I'll bring Shug inside."

It sounded simple enough, and it would have been if only Mike could have stopped thinking. He had every possible disastrous scenario playing in Technicolor while he helped Millie in the kitchen, while he made the rounds of everywhere guests would be during the reception, and even while he put on his own tuxedo.

_Peter getting cold feet. April getting into a wreck on the way over. The Justice of the Peace deciding to investigate the rather dodgy Social Security card and birth certificate they'd procured for Shug by way of Babyface Morales' gang. Hail? Brimstone? Earthquake? Aliens landing in Malibu? He would have accepted any of them as par for the course._

What he wasn't ready for was to be tapped on the shoulder by Micky, who held Peter's acoustic guitar out to him. "Davy wanted you to check the tuning."

Mike's lips curled upward as he tried to hold in a gust of laughter. "Davy can tune a guitar. So can you, for that matter."

"Yeah, I know," Micky said with an exaggerated eye-roll. "He just wanted to make sure you had something to do, because Peter's just gotten here and April called to say she's on her way with Shug."

With surprisingly steady hands, Mike strummed the strings of the old guitar. It had been hard for Peter to choose a best man between Davy and Micky – the assumption, and it was correct, was that Mike would be busy escorting Shug – so Davy kindly took it out of his hands by offering to sing. He had insisted on learning the accompaniment to his song and had practiced until his fingers were nearly worn raw.

"I do have great roommates," Mike drawled as he handed the perfectly good instrument back to MIcky. "I'm about to jump out of my skin, babe."

"Me, too," Micky admitted. "My goosebumps are so big I almost need longer sleeves!" He and Mike admired themselves in the mirror for a few moments before the honk of a Lamborghini's horn startled them. "Holy cats, that's April!"

"Go get her and take her out with you and Peter," Mike said as he adjusted his tie for the sixteenth time. "Leave the door open once the coast is clear."

"Got it. And Mike?"

The look they exchanged was heavy with memory. There was some guilt, to be sure, but mostly they shared joy at what was about to happen.

"I hear ya, Mick." Mike inclined his head at the door. "Go on, do your thing. I'll be out at the stroke of two."

He watched the reflections of Micky and April as they brought flowers for the bridal party outside, leaving a boutonniere for Mike next to Shug's bouquet. April was attired in a chiffon dress she would have described as pale jade but Mike registered only that it was green and very flowy. She gave him a little wave as she peeked outside. "Peter's under the tent already, Micky, so we'd better take our places. See you in a few minutes, Mike!"

The groom, best man, and maid of honor were ready to go. That only left—

"Robert Michael Nesmith! It's hot as hell out here!"

That would be the bride.

"I'm comin', Shug, hang on a second. It's only been a minute, so what in…oh, Shug!"

She was beautiful.

She was so very beautiful.

How could anyone related to him be that beautiful?

April had promised to "doll her up," and she had been true to her word. Only a little makeup adorned Shug's face, but the touches of mascara and lip gloss were perfect against her creamy skin. Mike had never seen a dress like hers before: white cotton with a snug bodice, a flowing skirt that came down to her slim ankles, and sleeves that looked like bells, all trimmed in simple white lace. She wore white sandals that showed off the pale pink polish April had applied to her nails, and on her head was a simple wreath of daisies and baby's breath that hung in her dark hair like stars.

"Well?" Shug asked after Mike had stared dumbly at her for over a minute.

He blinked and shook his head. "Yeah. You. Good. All good."

_Way to sound like an idiot_, he grumbled at himself.

Shug laughed. "That's kind of what I felt like when April let me look at myself in the mirror. It's me, but not really me, but definitely me." She came up for air. "Do you think Peter will like it?" she inquired shyly.

"LIKE? He's gonna faint right out there on the sand." Mike picked up his boutonniere from the table and handed it to Shug, steadying her hand as she pinned it into his buttonhole. "We gotta go, sis," he rasped as his throat tightened.

"Yep." She patted him on the chest before reaching for her bouquet, a frothy spill of white roses and lace. "Don't," she warned as she saw Mike's eyes widen at the incredibly "girly" display. "Millie wanted to loan me her mother's wedding veil, but I couldn't see myself going out there like that."

Mike understood. There had been enough secrecy in Shug's short existence that even a sheer covering over her face would be unbearable.

"So when she offered to 'do' my bouquet instead, I couldn't say no, could I?"

"Not in a million years," Mike agreed. He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Shug sidled up to him, leaning in so closely that Mike was almost dizzy from the scents of the flowers in her hair and hands. He found that he didn't have to force a smile as they stepped down the beach to the white tent where the guests rose to greet the bride.

No, indeed.

He had to force himself to keep from laughing with relief and pure glee.

He smiled at Davy, who sat on a nearby stool with Peter's guitar held reverently in his hands. When Mike and Shug passed, Davy began to play and sing.

_He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts.  
__Rest assured, this troubadour is acting on His part.  
__The union of your spirits here has caused Him to remain,  
__For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name,  
__There is love._

It wasn't a surprise that so many people had come. Peter's guileless, sweet nature had made him quite popular, and those who had met Shug even once became entranced by her humor and talent. Shug blushed at the crowd that was staring at her but her lips were parted in the happiest smile Mike had ever seen on her face.

_Oh, a man shall leave his mother, and a woman leave her home.  
They will travel on to where the two will be as one.  
__As it was in the beginning, is now until the end;  
__Woman draws a life from man and gives it back again,  
__And there is love._

At the front of the crowd stood Peter. Micky's hand was clasped gently on his shoulder as if to keep him from, as Mike had predicted, falling over in a dead faint at the sight of his bride. Mike caught his eye and winked, nodding toward Shug as if to say "Isn't she a knockout?" Peter's radiant smile was all the reply Mike could have needed.

_Well, then, what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife?  
Is it love that brings you here, or love that brings you life?  
For if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?  
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?  
Oh, there is love._

Davy's voice had never been so rich or sweet. When he finished the last refrain, he sat so still that only Mike could pick out the tears standing in his dark eyes. Nodding at him in silent congratulations, Mike then turned his attention back to Peter and Shug as they stood in their places, overlooking the endless ocean.

"Dearly beloved," intoned the Justice of the Peace, "we are gathered together here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Peter and Mary Elizabeth in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Mike felt his heart in his throat. One of his lingering day-mares had been someone exposing Shug at what should have been the happiest moment of her life thus far. But this wasn't a novel, and the crowd stayed silent except for a few women shedding sotto-voce tears.

Good. Mike hadn't wanted to get blood on his tux. He heard Peter's relieved sigh and felt Shug's hand squeeze his tightly.

"Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?" asked the Justice.

"I—I mean, all of us, we all do," Mike stammered as he changed the standard reply. Shug elbowed him in the ribs. A few people tittered, and the Justice's mouth quirked upward in a smile.

Mike brought Shug's hand to his lips. "I love you, sis," he whispered, then placed her hand in Peter's.

Shug trembled for a moment as she grasped Peter's fingers. He was gazing at her as if he'd never seen anything that precious in his whole life, and as if he couldn't bear to look anywhere else. Mike's eyes stung with tears for a moment as he realized that it was time for him to back away.

His part was done.

He and Davy had been saved seats in the front row and the two of them sat down together to watch. No fancy vows or declarations were to take place, just the simple joining of two people who seemed to have been created for just this very moment.

"I, Peter…"

The sun glimmered on Peter's light brown hair as he pledged himself to Shug. Mike knew that Peter had come so far from the scared Yankee boy who had sung in the street in hopes of earning enough coins to keep body and soul together. To be sure, Peter was the shortest person on the flower-bedecked dais, but as he recited the antique vows to his new love he might as well have been ten feet tall. There were no missed words, no cracks in the deep voice as he promised to love and cherish a woman who hadn't even existed six months ago. Peter's open, earnest face showed exactly what was in his generous heart as he promised that he would love Shug for better or worse, for richer or poorer…

"I don't know that we could get much poorer," Davy whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Mike resented the intrusion until he realized that he was about to cry, and that Davy's aside was intended to bring him back to coherence.

"…until death do us part," finished Peter. He was almost glowing at Shug, who took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"I, Mary Elizabeth – Sugar," she added defiantly, making Peter's dimple deepen, "take you, Peter…"

Mike's vision swam at the memory of waking up as a woman, of trying to forge an identity just in case Micky couldn't change him back. He'd gotten his dearest wish, in a sense, but what Shug continued to endure was something he could imagine all too well. He took in a shuddering breath and was grateful when Davy leaned closer to him for support.

"You okay, mate?" Davy murmured. "You're white as a sheet."

"Yeah, 'm fine," Mike managed to reply. He bumped his shoulder against Davy's, then turned to watch Micky exaggeratedly pull rings out of his jacket after patting every other pocket first. April rolled her eyes at him and reached for Shug's bouquet as Peter, his hand remarkably steady, prepared to place the ring on Shug's slim finger.

"In token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love," he said, his voice resonating as clear as a bell, "with this ring I thee wed."

Mike heard Davy begin to sniffle.

Shug plucked Peter's ring out of the Justice's hand. Her voice so thick with emotion that Mike wanted to leap out of his chair and hug her, but he knew she would take a deep breath and soldier on.

"In token and pledge," she began, a single tear dropping on Peter's hand, "of our constant faith…"

They had faith. In a situation that would have driven most people mad, they had persevered and worked and LOVED.

"...and our abiding love..."

Mike fumbled for the handkerchief that Millie had shoved into his breast pocket. He handed it to Davy, who blew his nose as quietly as possible.

"…with this ring I thee wed."

The couple looked expectantly at the Justice, who smiled beatifically at them. "Then, by the power vested in me by the State of California, I declare you to be husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder." He smiled as he patted Peter's shoulder. "You may kiss your bride now, son."

Peter did exactly that, placing his hands carefully on either side of Shug's face and pressing his lips tenderly against hers. When he pulled away, cheeks flaming red, Shug grabbed the back of his head and grinned as she dragged him in for a second, far less circumspect kiss, the kind Davy called "a good snog." The crowd erupted in cheers as April returned Shug's bouquet and Micky started an a capella rendition of an old folk song Peter loved.

_O, my love is like a red, red rose  
That's newly sprung in June;  
O, my love is like a melody  
That's sweetly played in tune.  
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in love am I;  
And I will love thee still, my dear,  
'til all the seas run dry._

Clutching her bouquet with one hand and Peter's arm with the other, Shug tugged at her new husband and they began their walk up the aisle. They paused at the front row. Peter watched, beaming and starry-eyed, as Shug pulled a rose out of her bouquet and gave it to Mike.

Mike blinked up at her, too full of emotion even to smile. He could only hope that their innate sense of each other would convey what he felt.

Before he had time to draw a breath, Shug and Peter were working their way back to the Pad. April had joined Micky for the second verse, her smoky contralto winding around his crystalline tenor. If Mike's wits had been about him he would have considered asking her to sit in with them once in a while, but he was powerless to do anything but watch the guests follow the bride and groom. Davy sat steadfastly by his side. When there was no one left but the crew who were waiting to take down the rented tent and chairs, Davy rose and offered his hand to Mike. "Unless you want a few more minutes?"

Mike shook his head. Taking the outstretched hand, he unfolded himself from the little chair and looked out to sea for a moment. "It was beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Nicest wedding I ever saw. Makes me want one of me very own someday." Davy must have felt Mike stiffen, because he added, "Someday very far off, that is."

Chuckling, Mike turned toward the Pad, which was already abuzz with food and music. "We'd better go in and keep Micky from diving into the wedding cake."

"Or trying to jump out of it."

"Merciful heavens," Mike sputtered. "Thank you so much for the mental image. Now, let's head back before they send out a search party."

The Pad was bustling. Millie was in her element, handing around tray after tray of delicious things to nibble, while Larry guarded the cake from various small children and one tall Micky. Dance music blared from the jukebox. Mike saw Shug on the spiral staircase being photographed by none other than Rob Roy Fingerhead, under Toby Willis' expert direction. Peter found himself bounced around by members of the Jolly Green Giants, as they took turns patting him on the back and yelling congratulatory rhymes. Mike was saved from melancholy brooding by the sheer number of people who wanted to shake his hand and offer their best wishes.

Eventually the boys were asked to play, and they churned out one rollicking rendition of favorite songs after another. "It figures I'd be playing my own wedding reception," Peter said in mock annoyance. He handed his bass to Shug and went over to the keyboard so that all five of them were performing together. They did a soft rendition of "Sometime in the Morning" for Millie and Larry to dance to, then when the floor was empty Mike picked up his acoustic guitar and motioned for Shug and Peter to have a dance of their very own.

Micky sang "As We Go Along" to the simple strums of Mike's guitar and little taps of Davy's tambourine. Peter held Shug close with his cheek brushing hers. They kept looking at their shiny new gold bands and giggling. Once in a while they would shoot an apologetic glance at Micky, but he just beamed down at them and smiled.

The dance ended to riotous applause for both the couple and the singer. April draped herself over Micky, and Davy found himself in the center of an admiring bevy of pretty girls. Mike rose, set the guitar aside, and cleared his throat.

"If I could have y'all's attention for a moment, I've got a few things I want to say." He waited for the clinking of glasses and plates to cease, then tried to talk without shoving his hands into his pockets. His fingers went to the top of his head to adjust a hat he wasn't wearing. Grimacing, he put his hands behind his back and began to speak. "I know this is usually the job of the best man and maid of honor, but it's lookin' as if they're a bit busy so I'll do it myself. First, thank y'all for coming out here today. Millie, you've outdone yourself." Cheers erupted from all the happy party-goers.

"Davy, Micky," Mike continued, "I've never heard either of you sing quite so much from the heart as you did today. Now, I'm not singing tonight because I don't trust my own voice – this here's hard enough – but I still have some things to say. First, to Shug: my baby sister, you've been through so much and you're so beautiful inside and out, and I'm never going to stop being proud of you or trying to overprotect you." Mike saw a blush spreading across Shug's glowing face. Smiling, he turned to Peter. "And Pete: if I had to pick, from all the men who ever lived, the only one I'd trust to honor and love my sister, it'd be you. I'm so glad that you're my brother."

Peter's lips were pressed together tightly. He managed to smile in spite of it, but his wide eyes brimmed with tears.

"Don't, now," Mike warned. "Don't you start, or you'll get me started too. Why don't you do something useful and cut that cake? I've been wanting to eat it since the moment I saw it!"

There were no mishaps with the cake, which was passed around in generous triangles. Peter and Shug fed one another carefully, mindful of their lovely clothes, then Shug gathered Mike, Davy, and Micky together. She brought Mike's slice of cake to him and kissed him on the temple. "We're gonna do the bouquet and garter soon and then we're off, but I wanted to thank you. For everything." Micky was next and accepted his kiss with unusual calm. "And you, for bringing me here. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was fate, but…I owe you. And I love you."

"Thanks, Shug," Micky said with a shy dip of his curly head.

"Davy." She put the plate in Davy's hand and looked down into his eyes. "You and your experience with having three sisters…you made the hard parts bearable and the good parts unbelievable. I can never, ever thank you."

"There's no need," Davy declared. "You're part of our family. I mean, you and Mike are related, and now you're married to Peter, but you know that Micky and I love you just as much, right?"

Sugar's radiant smile was the best answer to that question. A moment later Larry tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, fellas and Mrs. Tork…"

Mike had a sudden frisson at the sound of Shug's new name. It had been hard enough getting accustomed to another Nesmith…

"…but you have dinner reservations at the hotel pretty soon, so you might want to finish up."

"We do! C'mon, Peter!" She leaned on Mike and put her foot on Micky's knee. "You know where it is, so come and get it."

The double-entendre delighted their guests. Peter flushed crimson as he took the garter from above Shug's knee and tossed it behind himself. The crowd roared when they realized that none other than Mr. Babbitt had caught the prize.

Shug rearranged her skirts and walked hand-in-hand to the door with Peter. "I hate to give this up, it's so pretty," she pouted, but on the count of three she flung the bouquet so hard that it hit one of Millie's nieces on the head before she could grab it.

The little girl toddled shyly up to Shug and handed back the flowers, which were just a little worse for wear. "You can keep 'em 'cause you're the bride and you're the prettiest girl I ever saw."

Peter scooped the child up in his arms and kissed her on the cheek, which made her squeal with delight. He looked from the girl's blonde head over to Shug and they exchanged a glance fraught with meaning.

Mike's gut clenched. He wanted to swat the little brat for putting such ideas in their heads. Not married for two hours and they were already…

…leaving…

They called their goodbyes as Larry ushered them to the car. Mike ran out and grasped Peter's arm. "Pete," he began, then stopped when he realized he had no clue what to say.

"If you're going to ask me to be gentle with her, I'll never forgive you," Peter whispered.

Mike brightened. He chucked Shug under the chin. "Nah, I was gonna tell her to be gentle with YOU."

The couple laughed. The last thing Mike saw was Shug pulling Peter down by the ears for a kiss while rice and rose petals fell all around them.

He dimly registered the departures of the guests in twos and threes, until there was no one left but the three Monkees and two girls. One was April, still holding fast to Micky's arm, and the other was a lithe redhead a few inches shorter than Davy.

"Hey, Mike," Micky said, "we're going to the Vincent Van Go-Go to work off some of the cake – wanna come?"

Fifth wheel? Hell, he'd be a seventh. He shook his head wearily, indicating the stack of plates and silverware. "Nah, thanks. I'm gonna get started in on these."

"There's no need," Davy interjected. The redhead was nearly plastered onto him at this point. "We've got cleaners coming in tomorrow. It's a present from Millie's cousin, remember?"

Mike just shook his head. "Y'all scoot. I'm just gonna sit for a while if that's okay. I didn't sleep too good last night and I'm just plain worn out."

The boys looked at one another. "I don't want to leave him here alone," Micky stage-whispered at Davy.

"I've got pretty good hearing for an old man of twenty-four," Mike remarked drily. He rose and drew each of the other guys into a hug. "Thanks for worrying, but don't worry. I'm good." He nodded at them with what he hoped was a happy expression. "Strike while the iron's hot."

"Thanks, Mike," Micky and Davy chorused. They took the hands of their respective young ladies and headed toward the Monkeemobile.

Mike couldn't remember the last time he had felt so completely alone. His roommates wouldn't be back for hours – probably not until the next day, from the looks of things – and of course Peter and Shug would stay at the hotel for the night and then move into their apartment.

"It's just you and me, Mr. Schneider," Mike drawled at the dummy. He stuck his tongue out at it, laughed at himself, then walked out onto the balcony to sit with his arms folded on the railing. The sea air refreshed him and the calm shimmer of moonlight on the waves relaxed him.

It was going to be okay.

Peter and Shug were happy, the band would stay together, and things were looking up for them as a group and as individuals.

It was going to be better than okay.

Mike didn't understand why he lowered his face onto his arms and wept.

* * *

END


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